


Two Truths and a Lie

by phoenixflight



Category: White Collar
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, Multi, Season 3, Trust Issues, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-06 23:52:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17355017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/phoenixflight
Summary: Two of these things really happened - one never did.~In which Neal stretches the truth.





	Two Truths and a Lie

Two of these things really happened - one never did. 

I.

Neal let the door to his apartment shut heavily behind him. “Peter suspects me.”

Mozzie looked up from the table, over a glass of red - the very fine 1989 Châteaux Haut Brion, which Neal had been saving for a rainy day, open on the side board. “Is this about the art again?” 

“Peter knows something. I’m sure of it.” Neal shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it carefully. You couldn’t just toss a Devore over the back of a chair. 

“Not this again. It’s an unfounded worry! The dummy art all burned!” 

“You haven’t seen the way he’s been looking at me.” 

“Looking at you? That’s hardly a conclusive data point. I don’t think this is a reasonable level of paranoia-”

“Really?” Neal snapped, yanking his tie loose. “You’re calling me paranoid?”

“Not  _ reasonable levels _ I said,” Mozzie exclaimed, gesturing directionlessly with both hands. “Reasonable paranoia is entirely justified given the state of surveillance in America, COINTELPRO, the moon landing…” 

“Moz,” Neal interrupted. “Just hear me out. Peter is working late tonight with Diana, which,” Neal made a face, “is telling in itself. I overheard them talking about it - they didn’t want  me to hear.” 

“Is this going where I think it’s going?” 

“I can get into his house, take a look around.” 

Mozzie sighed heavily. “Say we entertain this fanciful notion. The Suit’s not just going to leave evidence around in his dining room. He has a felon as a housepet.” 

“I resent that,” Neal said mildly. “I’m not expecting to find a pro-con list titled  _ Did Neal do it? _ But people leave more traces of their thoughts than they realize.”

“Traces of thoughts? That’s uncharacteristically metaphysical of you,”

Neal blew out a frustrated breath. “I know Peter. I just want to see if anything jumps out at me.” 

Mozzie lifted a finger. “Ah-ah, rule one of B and E, never go into a joint without a clear mark.” 

“You made that up. Everyone who breaks into houses on the Upper East Side to grab heirloom jewelry and electronics is doing that. Grabbing what’s in plain sight. It’s called taking an opportunity.”

“Ameters,” Mozzie sniffed. 

Neal grimaced. “Well. Can’t argue with that.” 

Waving his hands in the air, Mozzie said, “We’re getting side tracked. The point is, it’s a useless risk to go in not knowing what you’re looking for.”

“I’ll know it when I see it.” 

“That voice doesn’t work on me,” Mozzie said, crossing his arms. “Yes, I see you using the forthright gaze and confident tone. Nice try, padawan. Don’t forget I taught you everything you know.” 

Neal dropped the look, which he privately thought of as his Captain America attitude, and raised his hands innocently. “Look, I know Peter better than anyone. Except maybe El. We don’t have time to wait for a better window. If Peter knows we have the treasure-” 

“Suspects,” Mozzie interjected. “Which he doesn’t.” 

“ _ Suspects _ ,” Neal mimicked. “Which he  _ does _ , then he’s moving fast and we need to move fast too. Do you believe that?” 

Mozzie eyed him for a long moment, tapping the toe of his scuffed shoes on the hardwood. Then he sighed. “Fine. We’ll do it your way, but if it doesn’t work I’m scheduling parcheesi with El for Sunday afternoon.”

“Great.” Neal flashed his best grin. “I’ll be in and out with no trouble. Trust me.” 

“Why is that the least reassuring thing you could possibly have said?” Mozzie muttered. Neal rolled his eyes. “Try it your way. But don’t come crying to me if you get caught.”

 

II. 

The Burke’s house was silent and dark. 

Neal slipped down the hall to the Burke’s bedroom, the house around him silent and dark. On the walls, photos of Peter and Elizabeth watched him. Their bedroom was at the end of the hall. The door didn’t creak. 

Neal looked around the room with a professional eye. It was faintly lit by the streetlamp outside, filtering through the curtains. Only one figure was curled in the wide bed. 

At the foot of the bed, Satchmo lifted his head and whined a little. “Good boy, Satch,” Neal whispered, bending to scratch him behind the ears. 

There was a rustle from the bed. Neal froze. 

“Peter?” 

Neal let out a breath slowly. “El. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“Neal?” 

“Hey.” He sat on the edge of the bed, mattress dipping. 

“What are you doing here?” She pushed herself up on her elbows, dark hair falling in a lush tumble around her shoulders, skin milky and luminous in the darkness. The sheet slid down her chest so he could see the swell of her breasts, the deep hollows of her clavicles. “Does Peter know you’re here?” 

“Of course he does. He always knows where I am,” Neal said, with a little self-deprecating smile. “I thought he’d be here.” 

“He’s working late, didn’t he tell you?” 

“No. It doesn't matter, it can wait. You go back to sleep El, I’ll let myself out.” 

“Oh, excuse me if I don’t want a known thief wandering around my house in the dead of night.” Holding the sheet to her chest, El sat up, making Neal lean backwards. “I’ll show you out.” 

“Alleged thief,” Neal said, letting his smile sound in his voice. “Convicted forger.” 

“My bathrobe is on the back of the closet door, will you get it for me?” 

“Of course.” He fetched her robe and turned his back politely as she put it on, taking the opportunity to cast another eye around the room. A pile of books on Peter’s bedside table, a half-full water glass and a jar of vitamins. One of the titles caught his eye - Mid-century Impressionists. Not Peter’s usual area of interest. 

“Alright,” Elizabeth said, and he turned. She was tying the sash of her robe around her waist, feet bare on the carpet. 

“Lead the way.” Neal gestured to the door with a flourish, almost a bow, and saw her hide a grin as she turned away. He and Satch followed her down the stairs to the front door. “I’m sorry to get you out of bed in the middle of the night,” he said in the foyer. 

“I’ll tell Peter you stopped by,” she said, hand on the door knob. 

“Do that.” He was standing close enough to smell her shampoo - sandalwood and lavender. “Give Peter this from me.” She turned in a swirl of dark hair, eyes widening when she realized how close they were standing. Neal tipped her chin up with two fingers. Her lips were slightly parted. Slowly, giving her time to pull away, making her complicit if she didn’t, he bent his head and kissed her. 

For a long, still moment they stood, barely touching except for their lips moving softly together, Neal’s fingers brushing her cheek, one of El’s hands on his arm, warm through his shirt. Then Neal pulled away, opening the front door. “Goodnight El,” he murmured, and jogged down the steps, leaving her in the doorway. 

 

III.

Morning light was pouring through the windows when there was a knock at Neal’s door. Neal cast a glance around the room, checking to make sure that anything incriminating was safely put away, and went to answer it. 

“Morning, Peter.” Peter grimace at him and stepped past him into the apartment, sweeping the room with a familiar, suspicious eye. Neal sighed, and shut the door behind him. 

“What were you doing at my house last night?” Peter asked, turning to Neal with his arms folded. He was wearing the same tie he’d had on yesterday, and his shirt was wrinkled. He’d come straight from the stakeout. 

“I went to see you,” Neal said, keeping his posture open. Shoulders relaxed, hands loose at his sides. Innocent. “You weren’t home.” 

“I know that. Why were you looking for me so late?” 

Letting his mouth tighten a little, Neal broke eye contact, rocking on his heels. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“Look. I know you’ve been investigating the treasure, and I know you think I have it. Don’t -” Peter opened his mouth and Neal held up a hand, cutting him off. “I don’t need you to explain, I’m not fishing for information.” Eyes narrowed, Peter closed his mouth.  _ Don’t sell it too hard, Caffrey. _ “I saw you with Diana yesterday, I know you were talking about me, and I got… frustrated. I went over to your house to talk to you.” 

“At eleven o’clock at night?” 

Neal shrugged. “It was an impulse.” 

“So?” Peter spread his arms. “Here I am. What did you want to say to me?” 

Neal looked at him sideways, bit his lip, and shook his head. “Forget it. Where were you anyway?” 

“Oh no.” Peter raised a finger. “Don’t deflect. Tell me why you came to see me.” That look, right there, Peter’s eyes hooked on Neal, sharp and intent - it made Neal’s stomach warm. 

“I don’t know how to convince you that I don’t want to leave,” Neal admitted, looking away, out at the skyline and the spire of the Empire State gleaming gold in the morning sun. “I…” He stopped, shook his head. “I know you don’t believe me.” 

“I want to believe you,” Peter said, painfully gentle. When he spoke softly like that his voice was rough, a little hoarse. “Neal, I want to trust you, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

Neal swallowed, lifting his chin a little so that Peter would see his adam’s apple bob. “I shouldn’t…” 

“Shouldn’t what?” A small smile curved Peter’s mouth and Neal let his eyes linger there. “Shouldn’t’s never stopped you before.” They were standing close together, Neal in his pajama bottoms and soft, worn thin teeshirt, Peter in yesterday’s clothes and smelling of coffee. 

“Peter,” Neal breathed, “This is why I’m not going to leave you,” and kissed him. 

Peter stiffened in shock, drawing in a sharp breath, but one of his hands had lifted immediately to Neal’s hip - intimate and familiar. As if this were something they did. Could do. Peter’s lips were slightly chapped, his chin rough with morning stubble, and he made a soft sound in his throat that Neal felt all the way to his core. 

Neal kept the kiss close-mouthed and light, not pushing his luck, and drew back. He gave a soft, wry laugh. “Told you I shouldn’t.” 

Peter opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, looking gratifyingly gobsmacked. Finally he said, “If this is some kind of a distraction…” 

Neal tipped his head down and grinned at Peter from under his lashes. “You admit I’m distracting?” 

“Goddammit, Neal…” 

“Peter, I swear,” Neal said, suddenly serious. “No distraction. No con. No angle.” 

“You really...?” Peter looked uncertain, doubtful. 

“Really.” He cupped a hand against Peter’s cheek, feeling the scrape of stubble, and met his eyes steadily. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. Please, Peter. Please believe me.” 

Wordlessly, Peter curled his hand around the back of Neal’s neck and dragged him in for another kiss. 

 

One of these things never happened - or did it? You only have my word for it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this little wasn't entirely incoherent. I was pleased with the idea but unsure about my execution - what did you think?  
> Comments are love!  
> Follow me on tumblr at [ stillwaterseas](http://stillwaterseas.tumblr.com/)


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